


To Come Alive

by ThatFeanorian



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: And so do I, Everything is Consentual, First Time, Fluff, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Mutual Pining, No Angst, PWP, Russingon, Sex, They Deserve This, and fluffy, because I just want my babies to be happy, birthday gifts, happiness, sex on the roof, two awkward boys in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:06:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27568744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatFeanorian/pseuds/ThatFeanorian
Summary: Maedhros and Fingon confess and express their feelings for one another on the roof of a palace during the Years of The Trees.
Relationships: Fingon | Findekáno & Maedhros | Maitimo, Fingon | Findekáno/Maedhros | Maitimo
Comments: 14
Kudos: 34





	To Come Alive

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, this is my first time writing and publishing an NSFW fic, so bear with me as I attempt to muddle my way through this. I would love constructive comments and feedback because obviously, it's imperfect if it's my first time. I just wanted my boys to be happy and in love without angst, so here you go.

Maedhros blinked,

“I wasn’t expecting this at all.” Fingon looked up at him with a soft smile, half exasperated and half adoring,

“Well, how else was I supposed to get you away from your brothers? There’s no way they’ll ever find us up here.” Maedhros chuckled, looking out at the windy rooftop and the small fire and basket of food Fingon had prepared,

“Well, it’s certainly original, I’ll give you that.” he admitted, “And you’re right, no one would ever think to look for us  _ on the roof. _ ” Fingon looked nervously up at him for a moment,

“Is it-- do you like it? I just… Nelyo you’re my best friend, and I wanted to-- to be alone with you for a little bit without Tyelkormo or Macalaurë… that’s okay, right?” Maedhros’s heart swelled with so much more than he would ever admit to anyone and he nodded, pulling Fingon into a hug and trying to pretend that his heart was not aching in his chest, begging for a different kind of closeness, but not one which he could ever hope to offer to his beautiful, untouchable, perfect cousin. 

“Of course it’s okay, you’re my best friend too Finno, I always want to spend time with you.” And oh, how much that hurt to say, to pretend that that was the whole truth and that there was nothing more to it… but Maedhros had to because if there was one thing he was absolutely certain of, it was that Fingon did not love him back, and he would rather have jumped from the roof of the palace than ruin what fraction of their relationship he could have.

Fingon smiled shyly and pulled away, tugging him by the hand over to the little fire and plopping himself down on one side while Maedhros took a seat on the other. Fingon peered over the fire for a moment, steeling himself and trying to calm his fluttering heart. Maedhros was his friend, he reminded himself, this was Maedhros’s day. Not his. He just needed to get through the night without making a fool of himself by going into one of his more and more frequent lovesick ramblings.

“I-- I got you a begetting day gift.” He offered quietly, and Maedhros raised his gaze from the fire to Fingon’s face, a soft smile making his features glow in the light. Fingon’s breath caught in his throat and he blushed furiously, scrambling to turn away and hide his face as he pulled a small lumpy package out of his basket and handed it to Maedhros before retreating to the other side of the fire again, trying to deny the fact that Maedhros’s perfect, flawless face was more beautiful than anything he had ever seen before. This wasn’t Fingon’s day, after all, it was Maedhros’s. Maedhros’s party, Maedhros’s begetting day, Maedhros’s moments which he had consciously chosen to spend with Fingon, alone here, rather than downstairs in the bright candlelight of the palace. 

Pushing his messy hair out of his face, he looked eagerly and a little apprehensively at Maedhros, worried that somehow what he had done wouldn’t be enough, that Maedhros wouldn’t want it, that it had been a mistake to try to make any kind of gift which might have equalled Maedhros’s perfection. Because of course he never could. Maedhros’s kindness knew no bounds, his beauty was more than that of the two trees and-- Fingon’s mind was wandering again. 

Maedhros chuckled, smiling fondly at Fingon and placing the gift down beside him,

“Come here Finno, let me fix your hair first, okay?” Fingon let out a huff of disappointment, but crossed the fire and sat in front of Maedhros, shaking his hair out behind him again, a mess of tangles which only hours earlier had been neatly braided. Maedhros buried his hands in Fingon’s hair, revelling in its softness and warmth as he carefully separated three strands from the whole and began braiding them carefully together. 

“I’ve missed this… I’ve missed you,” Maedhros admitted softly, and Fingon couldn’t help the slight blush the crept across his skin at that, his toes wiggling in delight at the thought that Maedhros had missed him.  _ Him! _ Closing his eyes and allowing the feeling of Maedhros’s hands running through his hair to take over his sense, Fingon hummed softly, his entire being vibrating with his love for Maedhros. 

“I missed you too, Russo,” he whispered, afraid to break the moment, afraid to admit just how much he wanted Maedhros all to himself. But Maedhros’s fingers felt heavenly in his hair, the occasional tugs gaining him a soft apology each time, but doing nothing to diffuse the want piling and piling and piling up inside of him. 

Fingon can imagine, in the depths of his own mind, Maedhros’s fingers in his hair in a much different way than they were at the moment, an imagining in which Maedhros’s fingers tugged hard on his hair, pulling his head back and baring his neck for soft lips and the sensual graze of teeth against his skin and-- Fingon cursed internally as Maedhros tugged softly on his hair and the feeling went straight to his groin. Letting out a tiny yelp as he realized that his breeches felt inordinately tight, he pulled away from Maedhros, breathing fast and shooting a nervous glance over his shoulder. 

“Finno?” Maedhros asked, frowning, “Are you okay? Did I hurt you? I-- I’m sorry… I can stop if you want me to.” Fingon shook his head slowly, trying to hold in a little whine and motioning quickly to the wrapped gift he had given Maedhros, 

“W-why don’t you open it, Nelyo?” He asked, a little breathlessly, but thankfully, Maedhros seemed not to notice, but instead cast Fingon a glowing smile which did nothing to help the tightness in his breeches. Biting his lip, Fingon stared determinedly down at the ground thinking very hard about things that were not the way Maedhros’s big hands would feel in his hair and around his cock and how that mouth would look smiling down at him… Fingon whined quietly and then tried to cover it up with a sneeze, gazing at Maedhros with something approaching horror. 

Suddenly, he wanted nothing more than to run away, back the way he had come, and to forget about any plans he might have had for the evening. This was… beyond embarrassing and Fingon hated himself for ruining the moment, for making Maedhros uncomfortable, for wasting this precious time with his cousin.

“Finno, are you okay?” And now Maedhros was reaching out and placing those large rough hands on his cheek, looking at him with worry, and before Fingon could even figure out what he was doing and how he was going answer, his arousal had made the decision for him and he was lunging forwards and pressing his lips hungrily to Maedhros’s. 

Maedhros froze in surprise, trying to push himself away from those beautiful perfect warm soft lips that were so much more than he ever could have imagined them to be. 

This was… almost too much it was so good, and Maedhros couldn’t help but open his mouth, welcoming Fingon’s searching tongue and letting out a tiny noise of delight. Finally, his mind stopped racing and Maedhros jumped to his feet, pulling away from Fingon and retreating several steps,

“Mmmh, wait, no, Finno, we shouldn’t be doing this--” he whispered frantically, and Fingon looked up at him, his eyes slightly glazed with lust. He was, Maedhros thought, almost indecently beautiful sitting there in the firelight, his lips slightly parted and his pupils blown wide. 

“You-- I-- Finno you’re my best friend! Your parents-- they trust me and I can’t just--” Fingon let out a little sob and tugged his knees up around his chest, looking up at Maedhros with horror,

“Shit. Shit, shit, shit, Nelyo… I-- I didn’t mean-- I thought-- did I ruin it? I-- I thought you-- maybe you loved me too, but-- no, no, no--”

“You-- you love me?” Maedhros parroted, momentarily dumbstruck, his heart beating furiously in his throat, suddenly unable to breathe and filled with an intense hope that he had never experienced anything even close to before. 

Fingon cringed and felt tears rising into his eyes. Maedhros sounded… revolted. He really had ruined everything. It was all his fault. He had taken something perfect and dragged it through the mud and it would never, ever be the same again. Still, there seemed no use in denying it now, not when his traitorous body was speaking for him, not when Maedhros still looked so perfect, so beautiful, the firelight flickering on his chiselled face and Fingon’s pants had never felt more uncomfortable. 

“Yes,” he whispered, shameful, horrified, disgusted with his own revelation, “I-- I’m so sorry Maitimo. I’ve ruined everything. I--” He took a shuddering breath and buried his head in his hands, “Please just go.” He waited for the sound of Maedhros’s footsteps to signal the end of his happiness, but nothing happened. Perhaps his cousin was still in shock, perhaps Fingon had killed him, a million fears swam through his head, and yet when Maedhros spoke, it was quiet and soft and not at all what Fingon had expected.

“You haven’t ruined anything, Finno.” He murmured, and Fingon looked up, his tear-filled eyes meeting Maedhros’s intense silver ones.

“I-- I haven’t?” he asked, confused but unbearably hopeful, and Maedhros shook his head slowly, sinking back down to the ground and sitting in front of Fingon.

“I… well… Finno I’ve loved you for longer than I care to admit. I thought that there was… something wrong with me, and I didn’t-- I shouldn’t-- but you… you love me?” Fingon nodded, reaching up to wipe the tears out of his eyes,

“I do.” He whispered, and Maedhros looked like he might cry, and ever so slowly he shifted himself closer so that their knees were pressing against each other.

“I-- oh Finno, I love you too. So, so much.” Fingon looked up, meeting his cousin’s eyes and saw that they were swimming with tears. His heart swelled and for a moment he felt as if he might explode from the joy bubbling up inside of him. Maedhros loved him. Loved  _ him! _ Out of all of the people throwing themselves at his feet, Maedhros loved  _ him! _ It was almost more than he could believe. His mind had stopped working momentarily and all that he could seem to focus on was the love inside of him and Maedhros’s eyes which were shimmering silver in the firelight, and Maedhros was getting closer, so close that Fingon could feel his breath, and he was whispering,

“Finno? May I--” And then Fingon lunged forwards and captured Maedhros’s warm lips in his. It was better than he had ever dared to dream it might be. Maedhros’s lips were warm and soft and pliant against his, frozen for a moment before softening and Maedhros pulled Fingon forwards into his lap, clinging to him as the world relied on it. Fingon sighed into the kiss, his body singing, and tentatively opened his lips, his tongue darting out and meeting Maedhros’s in a dance. It felt like they might have been doing this for centuries, their bodies fit so well together, and Fingon wanted to cry and laugh but most of all to never let go of his cousin, who was holding him so tightly and who he never wanted to leave again.

Momentarily neglected, Fingon’s arousal roared forwards into the forefront of his mind once again though now he felt much less self-conscious of it, sitting as he was in Maedhros’s lap with his cousin’s hands slowly snaking lower and lower down his back. Indeed, he rocked slightly forwards, pushing his mouth harder against Maedhros’s and shivered as he felt his arousal brush against Maedhros’s stomach through his trousers. Maedhros pulled back, his brow furrowed in worry, and he asked very quietly,

“Finno, are you sure you want to do this now? We-- this is very new. I don’t want to go too fast.” Fingon, slightly dizzy, took a few moments to actually process what Maedhros was saying before he was able to respond, and when he did his voice came out breathless and high,

“Want you, Nelyo, always, I’ve wanted you for so long… we  _ can’t _ go too fast but… but if you don’t want to right now we don’t have to.” After all this was Maedhros. If Maedhros wanted him, truly wanted him, Fingon would have waited a thousand years more if that’s what it took. Still, he acknowledged, there was very little chance that no matter how Maedhros responded, he would not be jerking off later to the thought of Maedhros’s lips on his. 

Maedhros stared at Fingon, at his slightly parted lips, at his wide eyes and at the flush rising on his cheeks, and gave up. Every ounce of determined resignation to never touch his cousin, to never love his cousin, to never tell his cousin how he was truly feeling, it all vanished. Looking into Fingon’s sparkling blue eyes, he suddenly realized that maybe, just maybe, Fingon had been waiting for him the same indecently long amount of time that Maedhros had waited. 

“Oh, oh Finno…” he choked out, and then he pulled Fingon back into his arms, kissing him fiercely. On his lap, Fingon squirmed again and Maedhros realized with a thrill of delight that his cousin was hard, the laces of his tented breeches straining as his legs wound themselves around Maedhros and he slid forwards, pressing his full body against Maedhros’s front.

Fingon wound his hands into his cousin’s hair, revelling in the softness and the warmth radiating from the waves he had longed to touch for nearly as long as he could remember. It took all his effort not to strip Maedhros there and then and go the whole extra mile on what might be thought of as “too far” and the fact that as he tried to subtly rub himself against Maedhros’s front he could feel his cousin’s cock hardening beneath him did nothing to help this fact in the slightest. Maedhros’s lips trailed down from his mouth to his jaw, open-mouthed and messy, and Fingon let out an involuntary whine as Maedhros pulled away. Eyes widening, Fingon clamped his lips shut in embarrassment, but Maedhros let out a low slightly hoarse chuckle that sent shivers down Fingon’s spine and murmured,

“No, let me hear you, Finno. I want to hear everything that you’re feeling if we’re going to do this now. I want to be able to remember every second.” Fingon’s breath caught in his throat as Maedhros moved down and started mouthing at the edge of one of his exposed collarbones, and he nodded fervently, gasping as he felt Maedhros’s thin fingers at his collar,

“Can this come off?” Maedhros asked, and Fingon made a noise of assent, untangling his hands from Maedhros’s hair to rip at the tiny buttons holding his tunic together, unable to get out of the itchy garment fast enough. 

“Shhh, shhh, slow down baby… we’ve got time. Here, let me…” Somehow, there was a marked difference between all the times Maedhros had helped him with his clothes in his childhood and the sensation of Maedhros’s cool fingers brushing against his skin as he unbuttoned the tunic inch by pain-staking inch, a slow and entirely too pleased smile spreading across his face as he did so. Fingon had never seen this side of Maedhros before, suddenly so cool and in control as if to provide an even starker comparison to Fingon’s trembling arousal. For some reason, instead of embarrassing him and reminding him of all the reasons Maedhros was more mature and grown-up than he was, as it usually would, now it made Fingon tremble all the harder beneath his cousin’s measured touches, each button coming undone one by one until at last Fingon was able to shrug out of the silky tunic and Maedhros’s breath stuttered slightly on the silent rooftop.

Fingon was… more perfect than Maedhros had ever dared imagine. Of course, Maedhros had  _ seen _ his cousins body in the past, even fully nude recently when they had gone swimming with Celegorm and Finrod in a lake a few miles outside the city a month before, but he had never allowed himself to fully look, to fully appreciate Fingon’s beauty the way he did now. The flush from Fingon’s face had spread to his shoulders and onto his chest and his thin lithe body glowed in the firelight, his skin seeming both darker and warmer for the reduced light on the roof. Maedhros wanted nothing more than to mark it somehow as his, to prove (if only to Fingon) that he would be devoted, that he would love his cousin until the end of Arda. Trailing his fingers worshipfully down from Fingon’s collar bone to his stomach, Maedhros released a shaky breath and leaned forwards pressing his lips to that perfect expanse of skin and beginning to explore, determined to learn every line and curve of Fingon’s body until he knew it better than his own. 

Fingon let out a little gasp at the touch of Maedhros’s mouth on his torso, one hand rising to tangle once again in Maedhros’s fiery curls while he leaned back on the other, forcing Maedhros to crawl forwards and position his body over Fingon’s as he licked and mouthed at Fingon’s chest. Maedhros’s lips brushed over Fingon’s nipple and Fingon whimpered quietly as his cousin’s teeth gently tugged on the sensitive nub, sending shockwaves of pleasure rocketing through Fingon’s body. Pulling back, Maedhros chuckled softly, murmuring,

“You like that? Come on, Finno, I want to  _ hear _ you. Don’t hold back.” Fingon bit his lip, blushing, but when Maedhros leaned down to suck at his nipple again, his mouth fell open and he let out a tiny whine that made his cousin’s lips curl into a smile against his skin. 

Fingon’s arm was trembling trying to hold him up and he felt light-headed. Sure, he had touched himself in the past but that was nothing at all compared to the overwhelming haze of pleasure that Maedhros was causing him to experience now. The pressure in his tightly tied breeches felt nearly unbearable, both far too much and not nearly enough at the same time and Fingon was afraid if Maedhros continued for much longer in the same fashion, the laces might break. 

“Nelyo, Russo, p-please, want-- need-- Fuck, Nelyo, I love you so much, don’t stop, never stop,” Maedhros hummed softly, against Fingon’s chest, one hand snaking down to hover above Fingon’s hips, and he looked up, a question in his eyes to which Fingon responded,

“Anything. I trust you, Nelyo. I love you.” Maedhros leaned down to capture his lips again, kissing him gently, lovingly, and Fingon let out a little sigh, his eyes fluttering closed as he simply leaned into the kiss, allowing the sensation of Maedhros’s lips on his to take over everything so that for a moment he even forgot about his aching arousal. A moment later, Fingon’s eyes flew open again and he moaned wantonly against Maedhros’s lips as his cousin’s hand rubbed across the front of his pants. 

“Ooohhh, oh Nelyo--” Fingon hissed, and a slow smile spread across Maedhros’s face as Fingon squirmed beneath him trying to buck up against his palm. Pressing his other hand firmly against Fingon’s hip to hold him down, Maedhros took his hand away, giving only the lightest of touches as he played with the laces, ignoring, for the moment, his own arousal in favor of playing with Fingon. It was beautiful, watching his cousin arch so beautifully against him, listening to the little whines torn out of his throat as he looked up at Maedhros with star-lit eyes, his pupils blown wide as he gasped,

“Nelyo! Please-- need more!” Maedhros chuckled lowly and peppered kisses over Fingon’s face and neck, light flighty things that made Fingon’s hands scramble over his back, trying to find somewhere he could hold himself solid against. 

“Oh, Finno, how I love you.” He murmured, ghosting his hand once again over Fingon’s cock and smiling lovingly at Fingon who gnawed at his lip and let out a whine. Finally, Maedhros rubbed down on the bulge in his pants and Fingon squirmed beneath him, his mouth opening in a perfect “o” as his eyes fluttered closed. He really was beautiful, Maedhros thought to himself as he stared down at the bow of his cousin’s lips, at the tiny trail of freckles dancing across his nose, at his ears which were twitching in delight. 

Fingon’s fingers hooked around the edge of Maedhros’s pants and he pulled his cousin towards him, wanting more, if such a thing was even possible, and Maedhros growled low in his throat, untying the laces of Fingon’s pants and allowing his cock to spring out of them as he wrapped his hand around it, making Fingon fall backwards, landing on his back on the rooftop and moaning as Maedhros stroked him. 

“Oh… oh shit Nelyo… so good-- need more-- need you always…” Maedhros leaned forwards and captured Fingon’s lips with his, kissing him deeply, filthily, nipping and biting at his lips as he thrust his tongue into Fingon’s mouth taking what he had wanted for so long and suddenly absolutely sure that Fingon wanted this every bit as much as he did,

“That’s right, baby, I want everyone to hear, everyone to know that you’re mine. Mine!” He repeated to himself, pulling back just long enough to take a deep breath before diving in again and sucking at Fingon’s lips as his Fingon thrust helplessly into his hand, letting out little gasps and whines that fueled Maedhros’s own erection. 

Fingon pulled at the laces of Maedhros’s pants, managing somehow to untie them and he pushed at the fabric, tugging violently at it until they pooled around Maedhros’s knees and Fingon was free to stare helplessly at his cousin’s beauty. Because Maedhros was beautiful, the most beautiful thing that Fingon had ever seen, and for a moment Fingon could barely breathe there was so much joy bubbling inside of him. It was almost too much, and yet not nearly enough, to be getting everything that he had ever wanted in one moment, to both possess and be possessed by the one he loved and to know that his love was returned, with even a fraction of the ferocity with which Fingon gave it, and then Maedhros’s enormous hand had wrapped around his own cock as well, and Maedhros rubbed Fingon against himself and they were both moaning, Maedhros’s arm trembling as he fought to hold himself up above Fingon, and Fingon was arching upwards, his hips moving of his own accord and his entire world narrowed down to the sensation of pleasure spiralling up his spine like lightning. 

Beneath Maedhros, Fingon was babbling, words of love and promises of forever flying from his tongue half-formed and slurring together in their hurry to escape his mouth, and Maedhros could barely keep himself from crying from the combination of arousal and joy so intense he didn’t think it would ever be replicated again. Dimly, he was aware of the rooftop around them, of the fire still crackling merrily, of the itch and scratch of discarded clothing, but really all that he could focus on was Fingon, his beautiful cousin-- no his lover, for the love that he had hidden for ages  _ was _ returned. It was! And then almost too quickly, Fingon’s cock twitched in his hand and the feeling of his cum dripping over Maedhros’s hand and leaking cock was enough to push him over the edge and the world turned white with pleasure. 

In the end, Maedhros thought, as he pressed messy sleepy kisses to Fingon’s face, starry-eyed with adoration, there really had never been any choice. It would always be Fingon for him, no matter what, and there would never come a day, he vowed, where he would not count himself beyond lucky to have Fingon there in his arms. It really was the best begetting day gift he could have hoped for, and it was not even the one Fingon had bought for him. Perhaps, he reflected sleepily, his mother really had been right that the best gifts were the ones that you gave.


End file.
